


Lotus Flower

by Magpiedance



Series: Monsters [4]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Ambiguous Deputy (Far Cry), Consent Gained By Trickery, False Identity, Kelpies, Other, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 08:36:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14374989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpiedance/pseuds/Magpiedance
Summary: Kelpies are said to haunt rivers and streams, usually in the shape of a horse.





	Lotus Flower

**Author's Note:**

> _there's an empty space inside my heart_
> 
> _where the weeds take root_
> 
> _-_

There's no two ways about it; you are being watched.

After days of traipsing through the wilderness with no access to amenities and no clean clothes you had felt disgusting, and the warmth of the sun gave you no qualms about stepping into the cool clear water to splash yourself down. You had just been about to remove your underwear when you noticed the big black horse at the river's bank.

You instinctively move to cover yourself and subsequently feel stupid for doing so.

The horse merely stares, placidly.

You're tempted to shoo it away but that also makes you feel ridiculous so you turn and try to ignore it.

You shimmy your remaining garments from your body and add them to the pile at the water's edge. The horse makes itself comfortable lain down in the grass and continues to stare with what you interpret to be a smug air.

You wash your arms and _don't look at the damn horse_ and then your chest and back. You bend over to wash your legs and the horse whickers appreciatively and you whip around to tell it to _fuck off_ but it's no longer there.

You stare at the spot it had been. You definitely didn't imagine it. Why would you imagine a horse. No reason. It must have wandered off, as a horse is wont to do.

You resume washing yourself.

It doesn't take long before you hear movement rustling through the nearby vegetation and you sigh inwardly thinking ' _of course that would have been too easy_ ' but it isn't the horse returned at all.

Sharky Boshaw stands at the water's edge, looking altogether far too pleased to have caught you in such a state of undress. You shriek and duck your body into the water, which isn't nearly murky enough for your liking, but he simply smirks and watches you with his hands placed on his hips.

You realise suddenly that he's wearing a _formal shirt._

“What the hell, Sharky,” you demand, but he doesn't answer. His head cocks to the side and he looks you over, biting his lip suggestively. Something seems very off about him. You can only assume that he's been drinking.

Deciding finally that you've had enough you stand to your full height, letting your arms hang by your sides as droplets of water cascade down your nude body. You meet his gaze challengingly. There's nothing here he hasn't seen before. Have his eyes always been that shade of blue?

He says nothing but strides into the river without pausing to remove his boots or even roll up his jeans. He cups his hand around the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. You grumble but you don't stop him, and you open your mouth to allow him access when he presses against you to deepen the kiss. You slip your hand under his shirt and splay your fingers across his belly. Something doesn't feel right about that either: ' _has he been working out?'_ You wonder.

He grabs your wrists suddenly, a predatory grin breaking across his face. You playfully tug against his grip before allowing him to lead you to the water's edge, where he pushes you down to the bank on your back with his knee between your thighs. He applies a delicious amount of pressure to your groin and now you _know_ he's been drinking because he pulls a tie – _a fucking tie where did he –_ from his pocket and covers your eyes with it.

You say “Sharky” in a warning tone but he shushes you and knots the tie firmly into place. Then he takes your wrists again and pins them over your head with one hand while the other explores your body _everywhere._

He kisses you passionately throughout his exploration, and keeps rubbing his leg up against you in a way that seems designed to drive you completely mad. Just enough to tantalise, not enough to get you really going. His free hand touches your neck, your chest, your waist, and pays special attention to the curve of your arse. He hooks his hand under your leg and pulls it around his waist, pressing his crotch against you now, letting you feel how firm he is under his jeans.

You say his name again in wonder and he jams his hand over your mouth. He seems irritated, much to your confusion.

Then he takes a breath and slides his hand away and replaces it with his mouth. He's never kissed you this much before.

He gives your wrists a warning squeeze before letting them go and leaning his body away from you. From the subtle rustle of fabric you glean that he's taking off his shirt, followed by the tell-tale clink of a belt buckle being removed.

You obediently keep your arms stretched over your head, somewhat enjoying this surprising new dominant side to him. You arch your back towards him suggestively and though you can't see his reaction you hear him chuckling under his breath in a manner that sounds distinctly pleased.

With your lower bodies submerged it's obscenely easy for him to sink himself inside of you and it feels at once both completely natural and entirely new. He feels different somehow, but you absolutely cannot place what the difference is. He shows more restraint, for one. Pushes in hard but slow. Cants his hips into you deep as he can then back out again with a blissful sigh.

He continues that relentless pace until you're mewling for more under him and he accommodates you with sharper thrusts and a hastier tempo. The heat between your bodies is more intense than you've ever experienced.

He keeps your mouth occupied as much as he can. Every time you try to speak he kisses you silent or slots his fingers inside for you to suck on, and he groans with pleasure when you do. The faster he speeds towards his end the more he begins to lose his composure, squeezing bruises into your hip with his fingers and adding an edge of teeth when he presses his mouth to your skin.

He suddenly draws his nails across the flesh of your hip in a way that stings and you make a noise of protest into his mouth, bucking your hips towards him slightly. He keeps doing it though, and with reluctance you lower your arm to grab his hand away but he bats your hand back and scratches you one final time before pushing deep into you and groaning low and satisfied, his hips grinding into yours.

“What the fuck” you manage to say, and he chuckles tiredly, before taking his hand to stroke between your legs without pulling out of you. You had already been fairly close and it doesn't take much before you're squeezing your legs around him with your head thrown back in silent rapture.

He presses one last deep kiss to your mouth before pulling out and off of you, leaving you feeling empty and light. You languish in the afterglow for a moment longer before pulling the makeshift blindfold from you eyes.

Boshaw is nowhere in sight.

The shock sends ice down your spine and you push yourself up to scan around for him. He's definitely gone.

A prickling from your lower abdomen draws your eyes to where he scratched you. The word 'lust' is etched lightly into your skin. You hear a sudden rumble of thunder and a distant clatter of what might be hoof-beats.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I spend some time thinking of a song that's relevant to the story to use for a title, and other times I only remember at the last second that I need a title at all. [Lotus Flower](https://youtu.be/cfOa1a8hYP8) by Radiohead.


End file.
